


“Fucking Numpties”

by honeythereisnorightway



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeythereisnorightway/pseuds/honeythereisnorightway
Summary: An alternative version of Carry On, where Simon finds Baz and saves him from the Numpties instead of Baz’s aunt.
Relationships: Snowbaz - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	“Fucking Numpties”

When I was really little, I was scared of the dark. Every night, I would lay awake in my too-big bed, with its thick drapery, staring at the scowling faces or gargoyles carved into every surface in every direction I could turn. Some nights, I would crawl out of bed and wander the dim halls to my parents’ room, and ask to sleep with them. But even then, as a toddler, I was terrified of disappointing my mum. I didn’t want her to think I was a coward. I was going to grow up to be big and brave and strong, just like her. So I layed in bed, trembling, eyeing the thick darkness that seeped out of the corners of my room.  
Then my mother died. Slowly, even before I really understood why, my eyes got better at seeing in the dark, and then, before I knew it, I was the scary creature lurking in the dark. Vile. Threatening. The stuff of nightmares and spooky stories. Vampire.  
Well. I can still see in the dark just fine, but I think my childhood fear is starting to resurface. I can’t remember the last time I saw the world in color. Surely I didn’t appreciate it enough. The painfully bright sunlight, stinging my face. Stretches of blue sky and scruffy green trees and brown earth. I would kill for it right now. I would kill anyways right now, I’m parched. I don’t know how many days it’s been since those god-awful numpties tossed me a cup of mystery-blood. Too many. I want my wand. I’ll tear each of the numpties to pieces one by one, except for one, I suppose. I’ll need one alive to find out who ordered them to kill me.  
I let out a sigh, and it comes out hoarse. I’m too exhausted to plot my revenge right now. Every inch of my body aches, my stomach is twisted into knots from hunger, and the fact that I can’t bend my legs or maneuver my arms is driving me mental. Plus, I could really use a wash. My elbows hit against the walls of the coffin I now call home, and my breathing spikes. I try to take deep breaths, not let the claustrophobia send me into a panic, but it’s not really helping. I lean up the couple of inches that the coffin allows, try to readjust so my leg will stop hurting quite so bad (I have no idea why it hurts, but it’s a deep pain, down to my bone), but I can’t find any way to be comfortable in the small space. Defeated, I let my head thunk back down on the hard wood. I know that I could make all of this so much easier for myself if I just gave up what little humanity I left, went primal and stopped feeling, but I also know that I never will, not even if they lock me in here for a hundred years. (Though they surely won’t keep me here for a hundred years. I wouldn’t even survive that long.) I owe it to my mother to stay as human as possible. She died to save me. Maybe I should’ve died too, but I won’t mock her legacy by letting myself become a real monster. I have to hold on, somehow.   
So I hold onto the one thing that keeps me human, that manages to bring blood to my lifeless cheeks. Simon Snow. Simon Snow laughing, Simon Snow scowling, Simon Snow blustering his way through some crass insult. Blue eyes, bronze curls. Listen to his heart pump blood through his body while he lay asleep, his whole body burning hot, spilling over with life. If I ever see him again, I’m going to kiss him, who cares if he kills me afterwards? Simon Snow is alive, and I’m hopelessly-  
With an ear-splitting grown, the lid of the coffin swings open so suddenly, my arms jerk to cover my face in a pitiful defence. Bright sunlight pours over me, blinding me. As the spots fade from my vision, I can make out a figure that looks distinctly not numptie-like.  
“Fucking numpties, really? What a wanker.” Of course it would be him. Fucking hell. My eyes adjust, and there’s Simon bloody Snow, a cocky smirk on his stupid mouth as he peers down at me. His eyes are filled with manic humor, and something else. Relief? Surely not.   
He offers me his hand, and I swat it out of my way, trying (and miserably failing) to maintain my dignity as I scamper my way to my feet. I try to look scornful as my eyes hungrily take him in. He looks a mess, almost as bad as I do. He’s bone-thin, with dark shadows carved under his eyes. He looks jumpy, like anything I do might set him off. Both our wands are gripped tightly in his hand, which is trembling slightly. Reluctantly tearing my eyes off of his, I notice that every single one of the numpties is dead. Snow‘s such an oaf, there go my chances of knowing who had me kidnapped.   
“Fuck, Baz, do you know I’ve been going crazy over you? You decide to go off and get kidnapped by fucking numpties in our last year at Watford? You look bloody awful by the way.”  
“I didn’t exactly elect to be kidnapped, Snow. Now give me back my wand, you imbecile,” I snap, trying to shove down the butterflies that fill my stomach at the idea of him “going crazy” over me. “And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll set your bed on fire. You should really work on your locator spells, by the way. If the roles were reversed, I’d have found you in half the time.”  
Simon stuck out his jaw, already flustered, and does not give back my wand. I never really plan to push him quite as much as I do, but he makes it so easy. He pushes out his jaw, “You’re seriously going to critique my wand work right now? Maybe you need to work on your defensive spells. Who gets kidnapped by numpties?” He snorts, pulling his free hand through his curls as he backs up towards the road.   
I normally try to have a bit more class, but I’m starving, thirsty, and way too tired to go along with this foolishness. I run forward and snatch my wand out of his hand.   
At least, that’s what I intend to do, but he doesn’t loosen his iron grip on the wand, even as I swing it up towards myself. The momentum, thank magic, does not snap my wand, but it knocks me on my back and pulls Simon right along on top of me.   
I have to admit, I have on countless occasions pictured Snow on top of me, but never on the ground, surrounded by dead numpties, with Snow cursing and struggling to get off of me.   
“Give me back my wand!” I snap, trying to tug it out of his still-closed fist. He manages to pull the wand out of my admittedly weak grasp (I’ve been in a coffin for the last however long, of course I’m weak right now), and he closes his hands around each of my wrists pinning me to the ground and boring his intense blue eyes into my own. Alright, this is a little closer to how I pictured this.   
“Baz, if you want your bloody wand back, tell me who had you kidnapped?” His face is so close to mine, hovering over me, that I can feel the heat of his blood radiating towards me.  
“How the hell would I know, I’ve been in a coffin, doesn’t leave much time for investigating.” I try to wrestle myself free because being tackled to the ground isn’t exactly helping with how much my body hurts, or with my new claustrophobia issue.   
Simon looks confused, like he hadn’t considered the possibility that getting kidnapped wasn’t part of some secret plan I’ve been hatching. “Oh,” he says stupidly, and then grins. “How about a ’thank you’, then?”  
“You have got to be kidding me.” Maybe I’ll bite him; that’ll get him off of me.  
“I just saved you from numpties. I canvased the whole city with tracking spells. My bloody girlfriend broke up with me for being to obsessed with tracking you down. I think I deserve a ‘thank you,’” he smirks over me. I’m trying not to think about the fact that his relationship ended because he couldn’t stop thinking about me. I’m also trying not to think about how the sun is making a halo of gold around is curly hair, or how his blue eyes have taken mine hostage, and I can hardly breathe. He shifts slightly, one of his thighs slipping between my own for balance, and suddenly my pants are too tight.   
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not bloody happening, it’s torture. I’d rather be back in the coffin. If I weren’t parched, my face would be red right now. Simon bloody Snow, get off of me.   
His eyes widen, and I know that he knows, and I wish that I could just sink into the Earth right now. I always knew Simon was going to kill me eventually, but I never thought I’d go out quite like this. He goes completely stiff and then rolls off of me, standing up mechanically and tossing me my wand. Mortified, I stand up shakily, and try to act like I have any dignity left. He’s very pointedly looking away from me.   
“So…” he says, glancing over at me with an unreadable expression. “I guess you were happy to see me.”  
“Fuck y-“ I don’t get a chance to finish my insult because all of the sudden his lips are crashing into my own.   
Simon Snow’s lips are hot against my own. His blood is all I can smell, and his pulse is hammering in my ears, but the only thing I can think about is kissing him right now. He’s good at this, which is mortifying because I’m not, and his hands are everywhere. One is latched to the back of my neck, and the other is a little… lower.   
I guess I can stay missing a couple more hours.


End file.
